Oversight
by awesomesen
Summary: The grand story of Yuna's epic romance with that marriage hunting boy in the Calm Lands. Kinda. [one shot, humour, based on the mini game]


_two notes, this time: if any "loyal readers" are checking this out, they're probably wondering why i haven't updated much recently. the truth is that i'm busy with another fanfiction project, a FFX AU written with "Storyless." it stars x-2 characters (gippal, mostly) as well as X, and can be found at the "Storyless and Parron" account. my profile has a very more details, and more importantly, links. ;) check it out, okay? (laugh) **ANYWAY:**  
_

_Does everyone remember that weird mini game in X-2 where you have to scour Spira for wives for some kid in the Calm Lands? When you first talk to the kid's father, he'll ask YUNA to marry the kid, first. It doesn't matter how you reply, you'll be sent on the sidequest anyway. A while ago - months - I was discussing this with a friend over AIM, and I mentioned that I always reply "sure, I'll marry him," just in some vague hope that something interesting will happen. It just doesn't make sense to me! She's the High Summoner! Match of a lifetime! And the kid turns her down? (laugh)_

_Originally posted last May on my livejournal. _

* * *

x x x

* * *

When I turned eighteen, my father decided that it was high time I, his only son and only heir, married. My thoughts on this matter were never asked or, apparently, relevant, and the next day we packed up and left Bevelle for the Calm Lands. I'm not actually sure who my father expected to find by way of suitors in the Travel Agency there, which is probably why the next few weeks were filled with rather excruciating boredom, punctuated only with my father's attempts to get the girl running the store to marry me (she finally claimed to be interested only in other women, and my father had to concede defeat).

I mostly stayed in the background, reading when I could, hiding as far from my father as he would allow—which meant in his sight, but, luckily, also under a tent with its walls pinned up. It was almost pleasant, except for the occasional fiend attacks, but I had never really liked living in the city anyway. There weren't too many books, and I was re-reading (out of desperation, I assure you) a battered romance novel, when the Travel Agency was granted the company some rather unexpected guests.

The first two were like a joke of opposites: one tall, short haired and dark, the other her almost literal opposite. Al Bhed, petite, and clothed (if one could use such a word to describe a bikini and mini-skirt) in yellows and oranges. They were obviously friends, and obviously fighters, along with the third girl. The third seemed to exist to balance the other two; even her hair length fell somewhere between that of her companions. She looked familiar to me, although I couldn't immediately place her—her looks were average, and there was nothing particularly exceptional or memorable about them. The black-clad woman went to critically eye some of the accessories lain out to attract buyers, the blonde skipping over to chat with the shopkeeper. The brunette, however, looked around.

My father, sensing an opportunity, waved the young woman over. I resisted the urge to smack my head against my palm, but really, I should have seen it coming. Closer to her, I could see that yes—there was something very familiar about her, especially once she gave my father a cheery, how-can-I-help-you? smile.

My father was never one to beat around the bush. He pointed his thumb at me, surely grinning at the woman in what he considered a dashing manner. "How'd you like to marry my son, here?"

She blinked. "Marry?" she repeated carefully, like she wasn't clear on the definition. At once her companions were back at her side.

"To some stranger?" the tall one questioned. "You've got to be joking."

"I dunno, maybe he's cute," the blonde said in reply, standing up on her tiptoes to look over at me. I resisted the urge to cover my face and hide, and instead tried to become engrossed with the badly written smut of my poor choice in reading material. "Say yes, Yunie!"

"What?" the brunette exclaimed. "Are you—joking?"

"It might be fun! C'mon, say yes!" the girl giggled, prodding 'Yunie' in the side.

"Rikku, don't be an idiot," the tall one said tiredly, but as if she was somewhat amused underneath it.

The oddly-familiar brunette looked thoughtful, then grinned mischievously. "Okay, fine!" she said brightly, clapping her hands together. "Sir, I would be most honored to marry your son!"

I almost choked, but remembered at the last minute that I wasn't supposed to be listening. My father paused. "Wha—really? You really want to marry my boy?"

The woman nodded, her expression serious. I suddenly realized why she looked familiar—but—could it really be...?

"Now—hold on just one second! You don't even know him! You can't just rush into something like this!" my father exclaimed. "Marriage is a serious endeavor!"

"But you asked me first," she replied fairly, tilting her head slightly to the side and tapping at her chin with one finger.

"I ain't just going to sit by and let my son marry some random woman with no prospects!" my father declared, ignoring the previous point. He then continued to ignore his own points by adding, "However, if you ladies wanted to help me find this boy a wife..." he lowered his voice from 'thundering' to merely 'booming,' "he's a bit of a homebody, you know, can't manage it himself. My only son! So if you three were, in your travels, to generate some... interest..."

"Sure!" the brunette chirped, almost before my father could finish his sentence. "We'd be happy to help!"

"...We've got to talk to you sometime about your habit of agreeing to everything," the tall woman muttered as the blonde giggled.

"Well, that's just great!" my father said brightly. "Just try and raise as much interest as you can, alright? This boy needs all the help he can get."

"You bet!" the woman replied. "I'll do my best!"

The three girls left soon after that, leaving me alone with my father, who turned and approached my reading-tent with a rather obvious glee in his every movement. "How about that, boy? You're gonna get married!"

"I think you should have accepted her proposal," I muttered.

"Why the hell's that?" my father replied. I didn't answer, burying myself instead in my misery, shame, and terrible novel. I would always remember that day, years later, as the one where I _didn't_ marry the High Summoner Yuna.

* * *

x x x

* * *


End file.
